


I'll Be Seeing You

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940s AU, F/M, Fluff, Smut, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26026513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You don't typically wear dresses. You make an exception for a night dancing with Bucky before he ships off.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Kudos: 73





	I'll Be Seeing You

You weren’t ever really one for _dresses_. 

The first time Bucky made eyes with you, it was outside the drugstore. You were wearing a plain white blouse tucked into high-waisted slacks; your mother had admonished you for going into town ‘dressed like that.’ 

“No man will ever want you if you don’t start dressing like a proper lady,” she’d said tartly, not turning from her work at the counter. “Your father and I will never get rid of you.”

“I’m not getting all dolled up for groceries, Mother,” you’d mumbled, buckling your shoes at the kitchen table. The linoleum floor scuffed a bit when you dropped your foot, and you grimaced, reaching down with a handkerchief to wipe it away. “I’ll be back in a jiff, don’t flip your wig -”

“And watch your mouth,” she chided, brandishing a knife, the blade wet with parsley leaves. “Grab pantyhose; all of yours have holes in them. Doing your laundry is like _fishing_.”

“Yes, mother,” you groaned, and you were out the door before she could give you any more slack.

You were supposed to be cooking with gas at this point - high-tailing out of Sparta and at some big University up in the east. You were far too old to be stuck at home still, but with the war, things were tight. Helping Pop at home was for the best, for now.

Your once-shiny Mary Jane’s were coated with a layer of dusty dirt and you knew your hair was a mess by the time you arrived in town, but it meant very little to you; not until Bucky Barnes smiled amongst his gang of friends when they were visiting, the gaggle of them leaning and hovered around a lamppost.

You didn’t know their names, but you knew his. 

You ducked your head, taken aback by the creeping heat in your cheeks when you watched his friends clap his back, a ripple of murmurs erupting from their group. Once inside the shop, you grabbed your purchases quickly, hoping they would have scrammed by the time you made your way back out into the late summer sun.

They were very much still waiting when you returned to your bicycle out front, and you were grateful for the brown paper bag clutched to your chest, concealing the pantyhose. Bucky stood at the forefront, four other boys at his back, and he looked expectant.

Swiftly you walked over to your bike, fixing the bag into the front wicker basket, careful not to look at the group of them when a pair of boots appeared on the sidewalk next to your front tire.

“I’ve seen you around before,” Bucky said lightly. When you brought your gaze up to meet his, his lips were curled into a playful smile. Not a whisper of nerves about him, eyes very blue. “You like wearing slacks, huh?”

You narrowed your eyes into slits, your mouth forming into a terse pout. “What’s it to you, crumb?”

“Easy,” he coaxed, and his friends laughed behind him. “I’m not ragging on you. I gotta ask you a question, that’s all.”

You pinned your shoulders back, bringing yourself up to your full height. “Lots of people are real fuddy-duddies about a girl wearing pants,” you explained sourly. “Well, go on, then.”

“Sorry to do this here,” he whispered, leaning into you a bit, and he gestured with a tick of his head towards his friends, “but they’ll give me hell if I don’t do this. You going steady with anyone?”

“And why should I tell you that?” you asked, clutching the handles of your bicycle tightly.

“Well, if you aren’t, maybe you’d wanna go to the theater with me later this week? ‘Casablanca’ is playing,” he said quietly, his voice very low as his quirked smile returned. “And I don’t care what you wear.”

You had to purse your lips to contain a smile, but Bucky caught it; his eyes scintillating with the mid-afternoon sun at his side.

“I’ll have to ask my Pop,” you replied softly. 

“You tell him James Barnes from the 107th wants to take you to a picture,” he whispered, his hands behind his back as he leaned in even closer to whisper into your ear. “He’ll say yes. And so will you, won’t’ you, sweetheart?”

-

That was the beginning of August, and now it was almost Halloween. 

You and Bucky were inseparable, the only gloom that hung over your heads was war. You snuck off to the creek while it was still warm, getting lost in kisses, sometimes touches, eventually everything. You started off going to the theater when something good played - now, it didn’t matter if you’d seen the same picture twenty times; as long as you were with Bucky, it didn’t matter. Even your parents liked him, which said a lot. He’d come for dinner Friday evenings and you’d sit on the porch, wrapped in a sweater and hanging from the bench swing, staying up until your mother made you come back inside. 

Bucky made you happy to still be in Wisconsin. 

It was briskly cold, the leaves already past their color prime and collected onto the ground, but tonight you would brace the cooler elements. Bucky was taking you to the dance in town, and you were going to wear a dress.

You stood in front of your modest vanity, the dresser your Pop made you, the mirror a little weathered. The dress cinched at the waist and, you had to admit, looked…pretty. The best part was the feeling of your legs, free and bare beneath the stiff fabric. You’d even put on blush and eye makeup. You knew Bucky would be in uniform, and you wanted to look the part beside him.

-

The strangeness of being out in town, at night, in a dress, was worth it for the look on Bucky’s face. 

“Good god, almighty,” he breathed, and you felt him demonstrate a level of restraint as he held you in the entrance of the grange. “You’re a sight.”

His cap darkened his eyes, but they gleamed even in the darkness. Even as the crowd began to coalesce towards the hall, it felt like the two of you were the only ones present. It wasn’t really proper to kiss him right there - the reverend was lurking in a corner somewhere with his wife, for crying out loud - but it was hard not to; lips full and pink, they parted as his grip tightened a little around your waist. 

“It’s a treat, getting to see those pegs,” he murmured, quickly scanning the room for onlookers before tilting his head downward, peeking at your legs. 

“Maybe you’ll get to see all of them, if you dance with me a little,” you whispered, and you watched his jaw flex as he clenched his jaw. 

“I don’t know if I can wait, doll,” he said into your ear, and his voice was rough with want. 

You didn’t care who was watching; you reached for the lapels on his coat, the light bouncing off his slick hair behind his ears, the golden decoration pinned to the front of his breast. 

By now, the foyer of the grange was nearly empty or the inhabitants occupied in hearty conversation; you grasped Bucky’s hand, grinning at him. 

“Follow me.”

You led him up the wooden staircase, both of you creeping as to not set off a creaky step. The second floor would be abandoned and poorly lit; you hadn’t been there since you were a girl, retrieving Christmas decorations for a pageant years ago, but you knew the layout well enough. The attic would be quiet and empty. 

As you suspected, the small step ladder upstairs led to the musty third floor, high above the dance that surely picked up below you, the jazz band reverberating even this far away. 

When you turned to face Bucky, both of you seated on the floor after you climbed into the crawl space in the ceiling, his eyes were dark and hooded. 

You leaned back on your elbows as Bucky rose on his knees, hovering over you with parted lips. You inhaled sharply as his warm hands rested on your legs, the calluses on his palms rough against your tights. 

“Look at this peach,” he said in a low hum. He parted your legs slightly, sitting back on his heels as he slowly pushed your skirts up, revealing your thigh high tights and garter. “Sweetheart, this is too much -“

He groped your thighs, digging into your flesh before hooking each of his thumbs into your panties. 

“You like this,” he said with an air of mock-surprise, his hubristic expression washed over his face. “This is for me, isn’t it, sweetheart?” His knuckles brushed over you, sinking into your wet heat slightly. With one hand, he pulled your panties aside, and he easily slipped two fingers into you. 

“Stars, Bucky,” you whined, arching your back as your fingers gripped the dusty wooden floor beneath you. The only light available poured in through the floorboards, and Bucky’s silhouette let out a deep hum as you threw your head back, rocking your hips into his hand. 

“You’re my girl, right, doll?” 

With his other hand, he pressed a thumb against your clit, your panties slightly ripped. Your hand flew to your mouth, stifling a cry as you collapsed onto the floor, swirling your hips in rhythm with his hands. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’m gonna make you come, but I gotta hear it. I wanna remember this. Say it; tell me you’re my girl,” he purred, voice hitching slightly as your fingers clumsily found the buttons on the front of your dress; you fumbled them apart, exposing your breasts behind satin - peachy pink, just for Bucky.

“I’m your girl, Buck,” you breathed faintly, writhing beneath his busy fingers as he watched you with a glazed look on his face. 

His cap had been casted to the floor beside you, and a strand of his hair fell into his eyes. “God damn right, you are,” he gritted out. “Jesus, I can hardly stand to watch you.”

His fingers curled inside of you deeper, swirling in and out of you as his thumb worked your clit, and you muffled another cry behind your palm. You were close, and Bucky knew how to talk you through it.

“That’s my girl,” he praised breathlessly, “sweet peach, come for me.”

You felt yourself tighten around his fingers, and you felt everything but him slip away as you let the orgasm wash over you. When Bucky pulled his hands away, he brought his fingers to your lips, soaked with your arousal. 

“Let me watch that pretty mouth of yours, doll,” he whispered darkly.

In a haze, you parted your lips and wrapped your tongue around his digits, sucking them into your mouth. Humming against them, Bucky swore under his breath as he unbuckled his trousers.

He tore his fingers away to sink into his pockets, rooting for a rubber. You sat up slightly as you helped him roll it onto his cock, rubbing the tip with the pad of your thumb.

“Wanna get there?” you teased, taking his length in your hand as he lowered himself, caging your body with his. You ran his cock over your wet slit, tearing a strangled noise from his throat. 

He took control by grabbing your wrists, guiding himself and your hand to your entrance, and pushed inside of you completely. Breath left your lungs, and you tense as you adjusted to the stretch. As he began to move impatiently above you, you felt his hand roam down to your thigh. He snapped the belt of your garter, digging his fingers into your soft flesh.

He kissed you - his hands and body were rough and domineering, but his mouth gave him away. His lips were soft and swollen with blood, plump and sweet as he moaned gently into your mouth, tongue sweeping over yours. You wrapped your arms around his chest, clutching to the back of his coat as his hips sank into yours, his cock sliding in and out of you with very apparent need.

He broke from the kiss - just barely, his nose pressed against yours - and his cerulean eyes bore into yours. 

“You’re mine, doll,” he swore, lips brushing over yours like gossamer, his hand now slipping beneath the silk of your bra, fingers exploring you there. “Sweet girl. Spreading your legs for me in your pretty little dress. Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me you’ll wait for me?”

“I’ll wait, Bucky, I promise,” you whispered, burying your face into his neck as he cupped you beneath your thighs, positioning you upright to sink into your deeper. 

He went rigid, kissing you fiercely as he thrusted into you hard a few more times before he sagged above you. 

He kissed you, sweet and abrupt pecks on your lips, and you laughed. He sat up with a groan, offering you his hand as you fixed your skirts. 

“Oh, how’s my hair?” you lamented, combing your fingers over the curls. 

He screwed up his face in concentration, hands smoothing out over the hair that framed your face. 

“Looks like you’ve been dancing,” he said with a smirk. “I like your trousers, but the dress has advantages.”

You smirked, smoothing out the front one last time. “Come here,” you murmured, sitting on your knees. “Your tie.” 

He breathed in deep, and you pretended not to notice him watching you intently as you straightened it. Even after it was set right, you took your time, stroking it down and flattening it to his chest. 

“How do I look?” he asked soberly. 

“You look swell, Buck,” you whispered back, ignoring the pang in your heart. 

-

You managed to slip undetected back downstairs, the grange hall lights dark as a slow tune sounded. 

The two of you gave each other a knowing look. 

“This one’s for you, sweetheart,” he told you, snaking his arm around your waist. 

‘I’ll be Seeing You’ rang out all around you, and the two of you swayed in the blue light in front of the band, in a sea of other couples. 

You rested your head against Bucky’s chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the soldier’s layers. 

“You’re my guy, James Barnes,” you told him softly. 

He didn’t respond, he only tightened his grip around your waist, his chest rising as he filled his lungs with air. 

-

The ground beneath you at the station felt like it was slipping away; the air was filled with plumes of breath and steam, bodies moving hurriedly, shoving you gently into Bucky’s chest. 

He looked uncharacteristically stern; jaw tight and eyes dark as he looked somewhere over your shoulder. 

A whistle blew, it was deafening and you felt your heart sink into your stomach. 

Bucky was leaving for Azzano, and he was taking your heart with him. 

The whistle must have woken Bucky from his reverie; his eyes fixed on you, and you watched as he swallowed tightly. 

“You’re my girl, right?” he said gruffly, and he hooked his fingers beneath your chin, bringing your gaze to meet his. “You’re gonna write me?”

“Of course, I will. Every day. Buck -“

“I’m gonna marry you when I get back,” he vowed. The blue of his eyes was the only color you registered amongst the greys, the muted haze of the station. 

You nodded, pressing your lips together to contain the inevitable tears. He kissed you, as if no one was watching, clinging to you like it might be the last time. 

It won’t be, you swore to yourself. 

“Take care of yourself, James Barnes. I love you.”


End file.
